The Perfect Landscape

by Ragna Sigurðardóttir

  At one of the first staff meetings after Hanna took over as director of the Annexe she presented her plan in outline and specifically mentioned a landscape exhibition she intended to open in July. She remembers precisely how she worded her plan at the time, and now she repeats the same words again, calmly and questioningly, with a hint of challenge.

  “Landscape? Landscape past and present?”

  No one utters a word. Kristin munches her cake and doesn’t look at her. Agusta turns off her phone and looks down at the table; Edda quickly refills her coffee cup. Agusta too? thinks Hanna. And Edda? Hanna feels that they are all thinking the same thing. They all want Baldur’s exhibition at the gallery. It is a much bolder project than the little exhibition Hanna was proposing. Hanna cannot oppose this project either, but right now she is angry first and foremost. She wishes Steinn was at the meeting. She views him as an ally, and it occurs to her that it’s undeniably easier for Kristin and Baldur that he is not present as this plan is being put forward. Not that he would have said anything. But Hanna knows what his expression would have been. He would have hidden his thoughts. But there would have been a hint of resentment in his lower lip, which is slightly thicker than the upper one. I alone would have noticed it, she thinks, and that would have spurred me on.

  “In fact, I was thinking about your exhibition, Hanna. It will fit in nicely with this project and will back it up,” interjects Baldur. “In fact, I was talking about it to Herbert and about the excellent work you’re doing here. It is clearly a coincidence that he came to me with precisely the same idea after you outlined yours, but this is on quite a different scale, of course. It must have been something in the air.” Baldur smiles warmly.

  Hanna looks at Baldur and tries to gauge whether he really stole her idea and presented it to Herbert as his own at some cocktail do and now is attributing the idea to Herbert. Or whether Herbert Grunewald genuinely did have this kind of exhibition in mind and wanted to link it to Icelandic landscape painting. Hanna feels that the phrase in fact cropped up too often in Baldur’s account for it to be believable. Of course, there is nothing original in putting on an exhibition of landscape paintings. Hanna does not have a patent on such an idea. Yet what Baldur is presenting is precisely the same as what she presented at the meeting some weeks earlier. An interplay of past and present that expresses how landscape has been portrayed in fine art through the ages.

  But Hanna also knows that Herbert Grunewald is fascinated by the Icelandic countryside and comes regularly for the salmon fishing; he even owns a cottage in a small village on the eastern fjords. She is well aware who Herbert Grunewald is. He is the director of an exhibition gallery in Cologne. Both he and the gallery are well respected in the international art world. Hanna has frequently viewed exhibitions there. Grunewald was also the previous director of the national gallery in Berlin; the exhibition gallery in Cologne is his passion. He enjoys the benefit of twenty years’ worth of connections and has acquired trust from gallery directors and curators throughout Europe and in the States, not forgetting private collectors. He is a big name to say the least.

  It would be a wonderful opportunity for Icelandic artists to be able to show their work at an exhibition that has his name attached, let alone exhibit in his gallery in Cologne. It would give their careers a boost and would also draw attention to Icelandic artists who are internationally recognized. Herbert is also a collector; Hanna has even viewed his private collection in Berlin, which is open to the public one day a month. She made a special trip from Amsterdam to view his collection, etchings and prints of northern European landscapes from the fifteenth to the seventeenth century. She spent a whole day there and would gladly have stayed longer. Hanna doesn’t know Herbert personally and has never had dealings with him. Why would he even consider loaning a priceless painting to a small gallery in Reykjavik? His love of Iceland must be exceptional.

  Friedrich or Durer, she thinks. That would pull the crowds. And she feels even angrier at not being included in the discussions, being kept out of the loop.

  Baldur says nothing further about the uncanny similarities between this exhibition and Hanna’s idea, and suddenly she is convinced that this is his doing. Totally contrary to what she expected when she arrived, their acquaintance from art college days hasn’t given rise to any significant interaction between them. She sees little of Baldur outside of the staff meetings. He is always friendly, says Hanna dear and my old friend, but she feels there is nothing to back it up. Baldur would stab her in the back; she doesn’t trust him.

  But then again? Hanna looks at Agusta. Don’t suppose she knows Herbert Grunewald. Hanna vaguely remembers Agusta, who is part of the international gallery directors’ group, mentioning that their last joint project took place in the eastern fjords two or three years ago. Maybe they had the use of his house there? Agusta is smart enough to go behind their backs. To get Herbert to contact Baldur, well aware that she would be an important cog in the wheel that drives the exhibition forward. Of course, Agusta doesn’t want to lose her good working relationship with Hanna, which could be her reason for operating behind closed doors.

  And as the director, Kristin is undoubtedly a friend of Herbert’s; she knows everyone in the art world. She is a snob and obviously wants to promote the gallery above all else. Kristin is no friend of Hanna’s, although they work together well enough. She certainly would not side with Hanna against the others. Steinn is probably the only one who would do that.

  She pushes Herbert’s letter away. Maybe one day she will uncover who was behind this, but not today.

  “Good luck,” she says at last and smiles at Baldur. She sees that he is relieved. He thinks she isn’t going to take it any further. But he, or whoever took the idea, has not finished the job, and Hanna is in no mood for laughter. Mentally she lowers her foil, but she doesn’t sheath it and remains in the en garde position.

  “I will carry on with my plans anyway,” she says. “As Baldur said, the two events aren’t comparable. My goal is different, and the two should complement one another. I’m just writing an article for the booklet, about landscapes past and present and how the worldview of each age and each nation is revealed in its paintings.”

  Hanna tries to say this in a light tone—she might even have succeeded. The others don’t know that she hasn’t started on any such article. She needs to get a move on.

  Hanna is almost on her feet when Kristin asks her to wait a moment.

  “I want to take this opportunity to let you know that Agusta needs to reduce her hours for the time being. She’ll be working half days until the spring.”

  Hanna looks in surprise at Agusta, who is gathering up her papers and doesn’t return her gaze. She doesn’t get it. How can Agusta, who is so ambitious, reduce her hours? Hanna looks at her questioningly, but Agusta has her eyes on her papers.

  “Agusta will be looking after Kolbeinn, her son, who has been unwell,” says Kristin by way of explanation.

  Her son? Hanna can’t make head or tail of this. Agusta, who lives with her parents. Does she have a child?

  “I didn’t know you had a child,” Hanna exclaims. They have worked together for around two months and Agusta has not mentioned that she has a child. “Why didn’t you tell me?” she asks involuntarily.

  Agusta looks away, hiding behind the letter from Grunewald, her hands shaking slightly. She lays them down over the letter.

  “I would never have asked you to...” Hanna doesn’t finish her sentence because Agusta interrupts.

  “Exactly. I’m not looking for special treatment because of Kolbeinn. Most people here have children. And Mom has helped out with him. It’s not as though I’m alone. You haven’t asked me to do anything out of the ordinary.”

  Hanna falls silent. She has asked Agusta to work late on some occasions, to come in on Saturdays or in the evening when the gallery has been holding an event. She regrets this now.

  From the way Agusta put it, Hanna concludes that Kolbeinn’s fat
her is not involved in bringing him up. Granny and Grandpa clearly help out. Hanna glances around. No one else is surprised. She is the only one taken off guard at this meeting.

  “How old is he?” she asks.

  Agusta smiles. “Nearly two.” She pulls her wallet out of the bag by her side, eases a little picture out of one compartment, and passes it across the table to Hanna.

  “Is he very ill?”

  “No, not really. But I’m going to stop sending him to the day care because he’s had continuous ear infections since the autumn.”

  “I wish you’d told me about him earlier,” says Hanna. “I have a daughter of my own. She’s nearly eighteen. She’s with her dad in Amsterdam.”

  Agusta looks at her in amazement.

  “I didn’t know that. I thought you were single and had no children.”

  Hanna can’t help laughing, but it touches a nerve as well.

  “Why did you think that?”

  Agusta is evasive.

  “I just assumed it, I suppose. I apologize.”

  This little polite word, apologize, makes Hanna go quiet. She was going to mention the winter when she was alone with Heba after Frederico gave up trying to live in Iceland and left. A year later Hanna moved abroad with Heba to be with him. She wanted her to be with her dad. This formal word stops Hanna from saying anything further. Clearly Agusta wants to maintain her pride; it is very important to her to be professional, and Hanna is not going to deny her that. Besides, they are at a meeting and it wouldn’t be appropriate.

  Hanna now sees a completely different person than she did a moment ago. Quick as a flash, pieces of the picture reform into a fresh image of Agusta. Gone is the young woman who would rather meet up with her friends on weekends than work, who could not wait to get out of the gallery at four-thirty, who was ambitious yet a touch egocentric. Now Hanna sees the dark rings under her eyes in another light, her rush to get home each day. Her almost undetectable reluctance to work on weekends.

  In her place is an ambitious young woman who pours her energy into caring for her son and into her work unstintingly. Nonetheless, Hanna is surprised that Agusta’s son has never come up in conversation. Hanna tries to see herself through Agusta’s eyes. Why did Agusta think she was single and without a family? Hanna pushes this thought aside. Maybe Frederico was right. Maybe she is cold and unbending.

  Hanna catches Kristin’s eye looking stiffly at her as if expecting something. Hanna registers what it is she has forgotten.

  “Of course you must take off all the time you need, Agusta,” she says. “It’ll be good for your boy to get rid of these ongoing illnesses.” Hanna sees that Agusta is relieved, and they don’t discuss it any further. Kristin brings the meeting to a close, reminding them of the next one.

  Down in the office Agusta hands Hanna a new report of vandalism to an outdoor artwork.

  “Is this a brand-new one?”

  Agusta nods. “Yes. Just like the last one, except this is downtown. You can hardly see that statue anymore. I went and took photos the other day because Steinn is ill. Sorry, I just forgot to mention it.”

  Hanna looks at the report. This time it is a statue of a young girl that has been sprayed over, and she feels a pang of anguish seeing the statue treated in this way.

  This is yet another job for Steinn; the gallery’s work comes to a grinding halt without him. His position is wide, the investigation into The Birches and now probably Composition in Blue as well, upkeep of the artworks, and all sorts of maintenance to the building. He is invaluable.

  Looking pensively at Steinn’s empty chair by his workbench, Hanna pictures his expression, his resolute chin and full lower lip, and all at once she realizes who he looks like. She quickly flicks through the picture archives on the computer and finds confirmation of her impression. Steinn is the spitting image of the goldsmith from Bruges whom Jan van Eyck painted in the fifteenth century. He has a steadfast chin and a kindly face, gentle eyes and strong hands. No, not a goldsmith; an alchemist, Hanna thinks to herself, recalling Steinn’s work with the most unlikely materials and tools, how he transforms devastation into beauty. Steinn at least is not the one who betrayed her; that much is certain.

  9

  LIGHT AND SHADE

  The day Steinn returns to work, Edda buys a cake, which they all eat in the cafeteria before the gallery opens. Steinn has a patch over one eye, and Hanna immediately notices how different he is. More sure of himself than before, less fumbling, less stammering, and over coffee he laughs heartily and freely for the first time since she started work in January. The eye patch suits him.

  The investigation into The Birches was put on hold when Steinn had his attack of acute glaucoma. He had an operation on his right eye and the left one will be done as a preventative measure. While Steinn was off work Hanna worked on the planning stages of the Annexe exhibitions. It is now well into March, and the exhibition, which Agusta planned before Hanna took on her post, is now upon them. This is part of Agusta’s role with the international curators’ group and includes artists from the Baltic countries, Finland, and Iceland.

  The exhibitors are final-year students at the Academy of Arts; they were selected by Agusta and the Finnish curator, who has been staying in the visitors’ apartment above the Annexe for the last two weeks. The curators’ group is also showing their own works, and it was a real juggling act to get all the pieces to fit well together. The theme of the exhibition is how exhibition rooms and art museums have evolved to become community centers where boundaries between different branches of art intermingle and art as an academic subject is fading. The emphasis is on communication and education, not only for the general public, but also among scholars, and the Annexe has tried to forge links with the university by running lectures and discussion evenings.

  The work has been enjoyable, and Hanna and Agusta have come to the conclusion that they have a lot in common. Now that Hanna knows about Kolbeinn, they also chat about their children. Hanna is itching to ask Agusta about Kolbeinn’s father but Agusta is careful never to mention him by name, as if he doesn’t exist, and Hanna is too considerate to ask her about something she doesn’t want to talk about.

  Any doubts that Hanna had at the outset about Agusta’s capabilities have gradually given way to trust and gratitude for her drive and unstinting hard work. Agusta is resourceful and not easily stressed. She doesn’t focus on problems but seeks solutions and has the knack of implementing them in a way that satisfies everyone. Agusta would do a good job as director of the Annexe, Hanna thinks to herself.

  Baldur has kept his distance from Hanna. Politeness reigns between them, but Hanna is careful not to take him into her confidence. The friendliness that characterized their early interaction, which was based on their old friendship, disappeared like dew in the morning sun after that meeting. Agusta gives Baldur support, but Hanna doesn’t get involved and doesn’t ask how the project is progressing.

  The two events, the international landscape exhibition and Hanna’s landscape exhibition, will open at the same time as the Arts Festival in Reykjavik, which of course is perfect from an artistic perspective and from the point of view of the gallery, but Hanna now suddenly finds herself with far less time to prepare. Leifur and Anselma haven’t seen the need to keep her informed of their ideas until the last possible moment; they want to prepare part of their projects in situ, and this involves a degree of uncertainty that is hard to handle. One way for Hanna to contain her worries and anxiety is through exercise, and so she has gone back to the fencing piste again.

  Hanna also used the time when Steinn was off to look into the idea that another painting, like Composition in Blue, might be under The Birches, and she came up with something significant. She is burning to let Steinn in on her discovery.

  Now that they are sitting together over coffee Hanna can’t help looking at him in surprise. The Steinn that she has known since she arrived is not at all the real Steinn, but the man who was ill, frightened, unsure, a
nd convinced that he was going blind but couldn’t bring himself to go to the doctor.

  Steinn and Hanna are both visual people; they experience the beauty of life first and foremost through images, and for Steinn the thought of losing that must have been unbearable. And he was probably truly terrified at no longer being able to be the family’s breadwinner; his pride was in tatters. Now he is a changed man. Directly after coffee he comes to her eagerly and with a gleam in his good eye. Hanna feels that for the first time she realizes how tall and well built Steinn is.

  “I need to show you something,” he says, as he had before, and they agree to meet in the basement later in the day. Walking down the stairs Hanna’s heart is thumping with excitement. Now that Steinn is back Hanna feels at home in her work; he is invaluable to her, and she suspects she is not the only one in feeling that. Everyone has been unusually cheerful today.

  Steinn goes straight to the computer and retrieves the picture, which he enlarges on the screen. Hanna waits to tell him about her discoveries. She puts down the book she was holding under her arm, a large book about the CoBrA painters. A folded sheet of paper is sticking out of it. Steinn shows her the screen.

  “You see, I got the X-ray images of the painting before I went into the hospital. They are most informative.”

  Full of anticipation, Hanna looks at the image on the screen, and then she realizes to her disappointment that she cannot make head or tail of it. The image is in black-and-white, and dark shadows compete with lighter patches.

  “This is the left half of the painting,” Steinn explains. “The largest X-ray film at the hospital is forty-by-fifty centimeters, so we needed to do it in two sections.”